War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  “It has been many marks since I have been in this room,” Osharus spoke. “In fact, I believe it was right after you took the throne. What was it for?”

  “Ah, yes. It was the dreadful pirate problem we had,” Ebin replied with a chuckle.

  “Yes,” Osharus said, laughing deeply, “they sure did give us a run for a bit. But unfortunately, this is slightly more severe than a few pirates.”

  “We have been waiting for news, Your Grace,” Queen Diona spoke as she bowed her head.

  “Yes,” Osharus stated as he turned toward Ebin and Diona, “word has spread that Osiris is gathering his forces and preparing to move. We don’t know his direction yet, but we do know that he has sent several Shifters over the Cascading Seas. I am meeting with my Commander this afternoon, and we are going to send spies out to attempt to find more information. We believe he may be looking to take our port.”

  “Does he know about us?” Ebin asked. “Does he know that we are here, ready to fight back if need be?”

  “That is unknown, but we will find all of that out and report to you as soon as answers come rolling in,” Osharus replied.

  “I will send some of my troops to scan the coastline of the Vale ports and see if they find any other news,” Ebin said, clenching his trident strongly.

  “What of Asphodul, the Queen of the Vale?” Diona questioned. “She has been through much grief over the last mark; can we be of assistance to her?”

  “She understands her role as Queen is stronger than her need to mourn,” Aralea responded. “Her spirits are high, as the fae are resilient, and she looks forward to ending all of this. We have her complete support.”

  “We must begin our movements,” Osharus stated as he swam toward the doorway. “Forgive me for the quick retreat.”

  “No apologies required,” Ebin responded. “We, too, have much to do. My son, Picarus, will show you to the shore.”

  Osharus and Aralea swam quickly from the room, followed by Pike and two guards. Pike hurried to catch up to the land king, running a plan through his mind. He saw an opportunity and knew this was the perfect moment to strike.

  “Your Grace,” Pike said quietly as he caught up to Osharus, “how is your army these days? I remember watching them train as a young boy.”

  “They are strong,” Osharus stated, smiling. “Though, having someone with your valor would have made them top in the land. It is a shame your father refused my offer to give your army legs in a time of need.”

  “There is actually something I want to speak to you about,” Pike replied, slowing down and facing Osharus. The land King motioned to the guards to take Aralea to shore.

  “Shall we take a short swim to the piers?” Osharus asked, his eyebrows lifted in knowing suspicion.

  “Let’s,” Pike responded, turning toward the port’s direction.

  Aralea stopped momentarily to watch her father and the Prince of the mer-people swim off toward the harbor. She looked suspiciously at the guards before continuing on her way to the shore. She was ready for a good meal and to see her beloved. But first, she would have to set in motion the plans for the Autumn Solstice event that was quickly approaching. Her exhaustion let loose in the form of a sigh as she used her magic to bring back her legs and drudge up into the sand. She turned back to the dark clouds approaching and wondered if the fae lost so many in this battle against the west, what would her kingdom have to endure?

  Chapter Two: Spies

  Aralea smiled as she walked into the Great Hall of the Gods. It was her favorite place in the castle, and since she was a young girl, she couldn’t remember a time where there was sadness or war spoken of in the large ballroom. The colossal burning crown symbol for the gods, constructed of gold, hung from the ceilings close to the walls. They sparkled in the light from the windows, and shadows danced across the floor. Aralea pulled her long, brown hair back and secured it at the nape of her neck with a ribbon from her wrist. She pushed the sleeves of the heavy, flowing, velvet gown up to her elbows and readied herself for work. The staff of the house had set up tables with samples and choices, and the designer waved kindly from the other side of the room where he was talking to one of the servants.

  The Autumn Solstice, though not as important as the Spring Solstice, was the one holiday celebrated inside the castle. The other holidays were handled more as times of prayer and ritual, but the autumn brought gatherings and laughter. The Great Hall was decorated elaborately from floor to ceiling with fall-inspired décor, handmade by the townspeople of Edann and surrounding cities within the Cascading Seas. Strewn across tables were linens knitted in hues of oranges and reds. Wreaths – some small enough for a table, others large enough to hang from the front of the castle – had been laid out for review. Each section of branch, each coated leaf, and each sprig of flower was meticulously placed and woven through the circular festoon.

  During the event, every guest brings a gift for the gods. These gifts are placed upon a floating, wooden platform that will be pushed out to sea and ceremoniously set on fire. The purpose is to appeal to the gods to allow autumn to be fruitful and long in order to prepare for the harsh winter that the east realms struggled through every mark. After the fire, also known as the Ceremony of Light, everyone gathers in the Great Hall to laugh, eat, and relax before the last drive for food and goods begins. The music is light and comforting, and large torches are lit throughout the hall to welcome the warmth of family and kin. Though the event takes place in Edann, royalty from all over the east realms travels for the celebration. This was the one time a year that the royal mer-people accepted the wizard King’s magic and walked on land for just one night.

  Aralea ran her fingers along the silken tapestries laying across the first table. Her Hand stood next to her, taking notes of what was to be used and what was to be put away for another gala. Aralea smiled at the way the colors of the material shimmered under the natural light. She went to work going through the first row of tables, picking linens, place settings, and silver first. When she reached the last table of the row, she stood, looking out the balcony doors at the sea beyond. She still had several rows to go but found her attention drawn away. She jumped slightly as a set of arms wrapped around her waist and hands settled on her belly.

  “How are my two favorite people doing?” Georges whispered in Aralea’s ear.

  “Shhh,” she hissed as she swung around to face him, his arms still wrapped around her. “No one knows yet, silly fool.”

  “I know, I know. I just really am excited. When are you going to tell your father?” Georges asked with a sad face.

  “Soon, my love,” Aralea replied as she kissed him on the tip of his nose. “When things quiet a bit. Probably right after the solstice celebrations.”

  “Good,” Georges replied. “Because I really want to start planning our little man’s future as King.”

  “And how do you know it will be a boy?” Aralea said, her eyes squinting. “It could be a beautiful Queen in there.”

  “And her beauty, as long as she got your looks, would rival that of the fae,” Georges said smiling and leaning in to kiss Aralea.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Aralea’s Hand interrupted with blushed cheeks. “We must continue.”

  “Yes, yes!” Georges laughed. “I have an archery lesson anyway. Far be it that I keep you from your duties. I know how much you love this celebration.”

  “I will see you at the meeting?” Aralea said, reminding Georges of the council meeting later.

  “With a shining, yet serious face, my love,” Georges replied as he walked off toward the doors. “Until we meet again.”

  Aralea watched with blushed cheek as Georges bowed ungracefully, his feet tripping over a podium holding a glass statue of the gods at the front. The figure hit the ground with a crash, and Aralea covered her eyes. Georges chuckled and looked at Aralea in embarrassment as he moved his hands over the glass pieces. Slowly, as if in reverse order, the pieces floated into the air and reassembled
on the podium.

  “See? Good as new!” Georges bellowed across the hall.

  Aralea laughed to herself as he disappeared around the corner. She took one last look out of the balcony doors at the roaring ocean before turning to her Hand, Misty. She smiled and leaned in to whisper.

  “That man may just be the death of me,” she giggled.

  “Well let’s get these decorations picked out first,” Misty replied, laughing.

  Georges was always gifted in magic and was one of the few wizards that could pull his conjure through his own hands. The rest had to use a staff or amulet. Georges’ magic had very few limitations, from simple magic like fixing things to manipulating the elements. Aralea used an amulet to produce her magic. She was incredibly gifted as well, but like her mother, she focused her gifts on foresight. She could see into the immediate happenings or into the future. The future was slightly more volatile, since any change in events could also change the outcome, but seeing across the lands into someone else’s vision was very helpful, especially in times of war. Aralea’s mother had died almost a century before, caught in a raging storm in the middle of the seas, never to be seen again. Her father, Osharus, was a powerful wizard, and though he showed his powers regularly, no one actually knew how far they could really go. There were some other minor magical townsfolk, but their gifts were more like parlor tricks than broad movements of element.

  Aralea’s magic is what led her, as a younger woman, to immediately become friends with Asphodul, the now Queen of the fae. The two girls would sit out in the garden of the Vale on warm summer nights casting firefly spells and watching the lights dance across the flowering fields. She missed those times very much, but as they grew older, the girls were given their royal places and expected to stay in their kingdoms, not gallivanting all over the east realms, chasing magic spells. When Aralea had arrived in the Vale for the past Queen’s memorial, Asphodul had bounded toward her like a school girl, hugging her tightly before returning to the stature and composure of her new place as Queen. She didn’t get to spend much time with her after the memorial, but Aralea did get to see the light in Asphodul’s eyes as she talked about her marriage and her sister. It was very much needed. In fact, Asphodul was the one who alerted Aralea to the baby growing inside of her, as fae have a sense of those things.

  While Aralea continued to choose the décor for the upcoming celebration and Georges stood in the archery fields beyond the castle, King Osharus sat quietly in his chambers. He watched the Prince expertly shoot his bow and arrow through the window of his room while running the knowledge of Osiris’ steady approach over in his mind. The clouds seemed to reflect his current mood as they twisted and turned in the sky above the sea. The sun that had so vibrantly shown down earlier was now shrouded in gray, ominous clouds. He ran his fingers down the smooth shaft of his staff and allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts for a moment.

  As Osharus’ introspection roiled around Osiris and his shifter army, the clouds began to rumble. A knock at his chamber door rattled him from his own visions, and he stood slowly and opened the large, wooden aperture. On the other side of the door stood the head of the Cascading Church, Coventina. She had been at Osharus’ side since he was a young boy, yet her youthful magic gave the manifestation of a much younger woman, younger than the King even. Her long, modest, black robes flowed over her, and a single red ribbon hung around her waist, a symbol of the gods’ love. Coventina’s dark hair was pulled back tightly into a braid that ran halfway down her back. She bowed to the King as his expression softened with her presence.

  “Your Grace,” she said in greeting, her head still bowed.

  “Your Faith,” the King replied. “Please, come in.”

  Coventina entered the chambers, closed the doors behind her, and made her way to the window where the King was seated. Osharus poured himself a glass of wine. He motioned to the Faith, but she shook her head in refusal but gratitude.

  “What can I do for you?” Osharus asked the woman of faith.

  “I saw the rumbling clouds and knew your mind was not at ease,” she stated, still looking out over the ocean.

  “You know me all too well,” the King smiled.

  “I have been by your side since birth,” she smiled back. “What is troubling you?”

  “It is this Osiris character,” the King sighed. “I feel his contravening soul all the way from the ports of the Vale.”

  “You must let that go,” Coventina replied with a worried tone as she turned toward the King and placed her hands in front of her. “The gods have spoken, and we know they do not favor this rogue King.”

  “I understand,” the King replied. “However, how many men must die before this fake King is taken down by our gods?”

  “It is not our place to question their will. We have seen what comes of that,” Coventina warned. “We must pray and give thanks. The gods will reveal their plans when they are ready to do so.”

  “But what of the lost?” the King questioned angrily. “How shall I protect them when the fires of the dragon’s belly blows down on their fields and their families?”

  Coventina crossed the stone floors, her bare feet tiptoeing quickly toward the angry King. She took his face into her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. Her entrancing stare calmed the King, and the emptied chalice dropped from his hand and bounced across the floor.

  “Shhhh, my King,” she whispered. “You are of greatness and power. The gods have given this to you. You cannot fear what you cannot control. Fear only weakens your spirit.”

  The King stood statuesque for a moment, staring into the Faith’s eyes before feverishly grabbing her around the waist and pressing his mouth hard against hers. The passion exploded through the chambers as Osharus carried Coventina to his bed and climbed on top of her. He heatedly kissed her neck and down to her collar. She breathed heavily, pulling her dress far enough up to wrap her legs around the King’s hips.

  “Your Grace,” she heaved breathlessly. “I missed your touch while you were away. I couldn’t even concentrate on my duties as Faith, for visions of our last night together flashed through my mind.”

  “My love, your body, your soul…it is what kept me moving on my trip,” he replied. “I wish so badly we could be together outside these suffocating walls.”

  “You are widowed,” Coventina replied.

  “Yes,” Osharus stated, pulling back. “But that does not mean my heart is gone.”

  As the storms rumbled out over Fortune, Osharus and Coventina hid in secret beneath the sheets of the King’s royal bed, Dragor walked along the garden path with Georges making their way to the Council Room, and Aralea made her last selections for the Autumn Solstice celebration. The kingdom’s secrets moved with the waves of the ocean as the sun began to lower in the sky. Dragor, Georges, and Aralea met for talks of war, waiting patiently for the King to arrive.

  Nearly an hour later, Osharus walked calmly into the Council Room, waving his hand to signal for the three to not get up from their chairs. He poured a glass of mead and excused the servants from the room. The level of secrecy of this meeting would surpass any he had been privy to before.

  “I apologize for keeping you waiting. I was a bit more tired than I thought,” the King addressed to the others. “Now, where shall we begin?”

  “Osiris is preparing to move,” Dragor started, looking down at the map on the table in front of them. “We must send in eyes and ears to hear the whispers of the kingdom. I believe I have found the person to do it.”

  “You have?” the King asked suspiciously.

  “Yes,” Dragor responded, standing and beginning to pace. “As we worked our reconnaissance, I was approached by a woman who told quite a tale.”

  Dragor walked to the door, opened it, and disappeared around the corner. When he returned, he walked with a girl, dark skinned, black hair, and ice-blue eyes. She wore a pair of black leather gloves and carried the mark of the necromancer on her neck. Aralea shifted uncomf
ortably in her chair as the girl’s eyes pierced Aralea’s thoughts.

  “This is Malaya,” Dragor presented the girl. “She worked for Osiris and was the lover of their Commander, Holland.”

  “Your Grace,” Malaya said as she bowed in reverence. “I am grateful to be of service.”

  “And what do you think this girl can do for us?” Osharus questioned angrily at the sight of an Avalonian. “This girl from Avalon. How do we know she does not hold allegiance?”

  “I was used and then tossed aside,” Malaya stated, stepping forward. “When the Queen defeated us, I was left crippled from my injuries. They consider me of no use any longer.”

  “Crippled?” the King asked as he looked her up and down. “You seem to be in fine shape. What injuries do you speak of?”

  “Since the battle, after taking a hard fall, I am unable to use my magic,” she said sadly. “I almost died. They say I sacrificed my gifts for life, but I do not remember any of it.”

  “And where do they think you are now?” the King asked. “Surely, your love is looking for you.”

  “He has cast me aside,” she revealed. “My magic is no longer useful, and now I am nothing more than a servant once again. Osiris is a nasty man, and I wish nothing more than his demise. He killed my brother when we lost the battle of the Vale and left me to starve in the streets at the hands of his men.”

  “She has endured much hardship,” Dragor stepped forward. “She wishes to be our spy, and in return, we help her regain at least part of her gifts.”